


Contact

by venturingeast



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Future Fic, M/M, New York City, No Human Contact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venturingeast/pseuds/venturingeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human contact is illegal. Derek Hale is a gangster who gives hugs and kisses in dark alleyways in exchange for money. Stiles Stilinksi just wants contact. And he's desperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap, guys. First fic. Please read and leave feedback :D Tank ya!

Human contact. There is nothing that I crave more. I want to feel the warmth of someone else, to feel their strong arms around me in a tight hug, to feel the soft skin of their lips as they brush them across my cheek in a fleeting kiss. And I would give anything.

The year is 2066 and human contact is illegal. It all started in 2013, the year that diseases took more lives than war and crime. Deadly viruses were spread between hugs, kisses, and handshakes. People were becoming desperate, not only for their loved ones, but for themselves. So a group of lawmakers, doctors, and social workers joined together to create an association called the Fight against Human Diseases. They did the unimaginable. They proposed a bill that made all forms of human contact illegal. The bill was meant to save lives. To end diseases and make a world a better place. Unsurprisingly, the group gained millions of supporters and the bill was passed in 2015.

So began the life without any touches. No hugs, kisses, handshakes, or even shoulder bumps. Couples didn’t kiss at their weddings. They simply signed a piece of paper stating that they were married while a pastor announced the beginning of a “wonderful and happy life” . Husbands and wives slept in the same room but never the same bed. Sex was strictly forbidden. Children were conceived through a fertilization method where the father’s sperm was implanted into the mother. Only mothers could hold their newborn babies. Fathers never touched their children. Children were the slight exception of the bill. Research has shown that babies need contact in order to grow and develop. Mothers can touch their child until they are three. Until that age, babies are rocked to sleep. Toddlers have tickle fights. Mothers kiss pain away. Then it stops. No hugs, or kisses, or comforting touches. Nothing.

I always knew my mother wanted more. I could see in her eyes that she just wanted to hug and kiss me. To feel that I was really there, living and breathing. There would be times that she would almost forget. She would hold out her arms to me and I, being a young child who didn’t understand laws and other notions, would come running to her. Then she would remember. With a frown on her face and tears in her eyes, she would snap her arms into her sides and turn away from me, leaving me in a state of confusion.

It was my father who taught me. He was a police officer, enforcing the law against human contact. He would always come home with stories about how he arrested criminals he caught hugging and kissing. Or worse. Having sex. He told me that they were crawling with diseases and that he was putting them out of their misery. At a very young age, I was taught all the punishments of contact. A touch of a hand can get five years in prison. A hug or a kiss can get 20 years. Sex was punishable by death. I knew these better than my ABC’s.

Growing up, I always wondered what a hug felt like. Or a kiss. My mother had very soft looking skin and I always wondered if it was as soft as I thought it was. My father was very muscular and I imagined his strong arms going around me in a hug. I wanted to give my friends high fives. I wanted to shake someone’s hand, feeling their firm grip. But I never voiced these opinions. Thoughts like those could get me put into prison or a mental asylum. So I buried them in the back of my head and never spoke them.

BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP

I was shaken out of my sleep by my blaring alarm clock. 6 a.m. was way too early to be getting up for a job. I slammed the off button and forced myself out of my king-sized bed. A bed big enough for two. Out of my warm sheets. I often imagine that instead of sheets, arms of a lover would be around me. Holding me through the night. I hated those thoughts that so often came to my mind. Feelings of longing and sadness would fill the cavity under my breastbone, leaving my chest numb and constricting my lungs. Too many emotions just for a simple touch. They left me bitter and I could honestly say that life sucked.

The New York apartment I lived in was small but comfortable for one person. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, a small living room area, and a small area for the washing machine and dryer. It was an apartment that could easily room another person or hold a small get together with friends. But unfortunately, I was the only one. I liked to think that my small apartment was a reflection of me. Quiet and lonely. We were a match made in heaven.

After quickly showering, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed, I made my way into the kitchen to find something edible to eat. I couldn’t cook to save my life and I somehow managed to feed myself off bowls of cereal and toaster waffles. I often imagined a lover cooking breakfast, filling the room with delicious smells of food. Kissing me in the middle of the kitchen. Pulling me close and whispering “good morning” in my ear. But that was just imagination. So I had to settle on crappy store-bought coffee. After starting the coffee machine and retrieving a cup from a cabinet, I looked around my small kitchen. It was a mess. Papers for work were everywhere and my laptop was in the middle of the table, still open but dead from not being charged. Waiting for the coffee to be ready, I started to tidy up, picking up pieces of papers and neatly organizing them into separate stacks. Four stacks later, the coffee was ready. I quickly downed a cup, not caring about burning my throat. I grabbed my laptop, shoved it into my computer bag, and pulled on my black work shoes. I tugged my rain jacket. Knowing New York, it was probably raining. Cursing my living location, I snatched the umbrella leaning against the door.

I was right. Stepping out of my apartment building, I felt the first cold drops of rain on my face. Viciously snapping open my umbrella, I made a sharp right and headed towards work.

Funny thing about the sidewalks of New York. They are like mini roads. The right side is going one direction and the left is going the opposite direction. This was created shortly after the anti human contact bill was passed. No more accidentally bumping into a stranger. The sidewalks were smooth and controlled. The people walking along the sidewalks have changed since 2013. Around that time, obesity was an epidemic. People with larger body sizes were the ones who were the most responsible for the accidental touches. Their large waists would touch someone they were sitting next to in the subway. Their wide hips would knock into someone else. Soon, another bill was passed to prevent that. It made obesity illegal and anyone medically recognized as obese would serve jail time until they were declared a healthy size. So, as personal space got bigger, people got smaller.

People became less friendly, less happy. Everyone walking on the sidewalk all wore the same expression. Glazed over eyes and mouths forced into straight, grim lines. A few people were having quiet discussions, but other than that, the sidewalk was quiet. I often wondered what these people were thinking. Were they craving human contact, like me? Wondering what their spouse was making for dinner that night? Worrying about a report that was due that day at work? I would never know. I was tempted to ask. Just to know. I wanted to have a conversation with a random stranger. Find out where they’re from, find out about their families, and if they hated their job as much as I did. I never had the courage. So I kept my mouth shut and continued to walk.

After walking for about five minutes, I ducked into a large black building with a large “New York Police Department” decorating the front. Welcome to work.

I never wanted to work for the NYPD. It was my father who forced me into the job. He was always yabbering about how “I would bring honor to myself and New York” and “you should serve your city and country”. I disagreed with everything this job stood for. I hated most of my coworkers. And I also worked unreasonable hours. But it was good money and I never had the guts to rebel against my father. I was never even a police officer. I managed to land the personal assistant opening of the Chief of Police, Drew Jones. Yay for me.

I stepped off the elevator and headed for my desk. I passed cubicle after cubicle, each filled with blank-faced workers typing on computers or babbling on telephones. The office was grey and dreary, with a low hum of voices and ringing phones. I hated this place. Call me suspicious, but I always felt like I had eyes on the back of my head. Reading my thoughts. Seeing my cravings for contact. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. And I don’t.

I finally reach my desk and plop down into the chair. I pull out my computer, open it and turn it on, then start digging through the mountain of papers that Jones has left for me. They’re mostly random cases of people accidentally brushing others on their way to work. But there are a few that are involved in the black market. Believe it or not, there is a black market for human contact. Desperate and mentally unstable people pay gang leaders for one of their members to hug them. Or kiss them. Or have sex with them. It’s become more noticeable as these gang leaders start to get more powerful off their wealth. Gang fights break out over who controls what dark, dirty alleyway. And the NYPD are left to clean up the mess. But we have been tracking one gang leader for months now. We even managed to get an undercover cop to interact with him. Unfortunately, as the NYPD dug deeper into the gang, I become more and more interested in the touches that they sold.

I had the money to pay for a touch. I could probably even trace the alleyway that a gang was operating out of. I owe that skill to the NYPD. But I didn’t know if I had the guts. I didn’t know if I could handle the consequences if I got caught. But what really scared me was if I got my human contact and I wanted more. If I had to keep going back and back, like a desperate heroin junkie going back to his dealer. It was risky.

“Stilinski!” Jones’ gruff voice called out. I sighed and turned to see my boss marching up to my desk. Drew Jones was in his fifties with grey hair and thick mustache. He had a little bit of a belly. It looked squishy. I was constantly tempted to poke it. And on some days, punch it.

“We’ve got him!”

“Who?” I asked.

“Hale!” He announces, proudly puffing out his chest. Peter Hale was the current gang leader that we had been tracking. I knew we were getting very close to him, but I didn’t realize that we were in the position to arrest him. I need to start paying attention to work.

“The bastard finally slipped up; giving the evidence we need to Argent! It’s about damn time.” Jones said, leaning on my desk. Officer Chris Argent was our undercover cop. He was like an experienced hunter, tracking down his prey with just a drop of blood. He was very good at his job. Almost too good.

“Good for him. I know he’s been working hard.” I reply flatly.

“Best man on the force, I say! He even managed to get Hale in the interrogation room! Too bad we don’t have more officers like Argent,” Jones sighed. “Anyways, I need you to go watch Hale’s interrogation. Write some notes on him. And start writing a good argument against him when we start charging him in court.”

I nodded, grabbing a notebook and a pencil. This should be interesting.

I pushed open the viewing room door and entered the small room that looked onto the interrogation room. It was small, housing a few chairs, a table, and a one-way mirror. A few other officers were there. I nodded to them in greeting and took a seat at the table and glanced into the interrogation room. What I saw froze the blood in my veins.

There was Hale. Sitting at the table, handcuffed hands resting in his lap. He had an armed officer at both of his sides. That’s not what shocked me. It was how Hale looked. He looked completely normal. No signs of disease. Completely and utterly normal. He even had a content look on his face, like he had lived a good and wonderful life, surrounding my family and friends. Healthy. I just couldn’t believe it. The evidence shows Hale had given hugs and kisses to paying customers. Even had sex with them. My father always told me that people who had human contact were riddled with diseases and they looked awful. He told me that they were dying, living miserable lives. Hale went against everything I knew. I just couldn’t believe it.

The interview was complete waste of time, for the NYPD and Hale. The interrogator, an officer named Scott McCall, asked the generic interrogation questions and Hale gave vague answers that only frustrated McCall.

“Why would you want to commit an unforgivable crime?” asked a frustrated McCall. That’s when the interrogation took a very surprising turn.

“Have you ever felt a hug?” Hale slowly asked, making eye contact with McCall. McCall rolled his eyes. We all knew the answer.

“A hug is the most amazing thing you could ever feel. It’s warm and comforting. It has the power to give you courage, to face a cold and dark world. It’s relief to feel strong arms around you, protecting you from the evils that society throws at you. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Hale smirked at McCall. McCall rolled his eyes again.

I was completely frozen. Hale had just proven all of my assumptions about hugs. And human contact. I just sat in my chair, trembling, with a million thoughts whirring in my head. Then, like he knew about my inward struggle, Hale turned his head to the one-sided mirror and made eye contact with me. And offered a small smile.

That was it for me. I stood up so quickly that I knocked over my chair. Mind going into autopilot, I ran out of the viewing room and back to my desk. With shaking hands, I quickly stuffed my laptop and a few papers into my bag and grabbed my coat.

“Screw work.” I thought, running down the stairwell and out of the NYPD building.

I ran back to my apartment like a madman. I was weaving through the crowd of people, receiving “watch outs” and a few curses that started with the f-word. But nothing slowed me down.

After going up the stairwell two steps at a time, I finally got my apartment and my senses. I slammed the door and crumpled to the floor.

“What the hell am I doing?” I asked myself. I finally realized what I had just done. And that I was crying. I left work in the middle of a very important interrogation. I had almost run over people in my rush to get away. I started to sob. What scared me the most was the one word that was flashing in my head the entire run back to my apartment.

CONTACT

I don’t know how long I laid there. It could’ve been minutes or hours. I laid there until my tears had run out and I was blankly staring at my couch. Then it hit me. I have had enough. I have had enough of the bitter days and the lonely nights. I have had enough of the secret cravings for contact. I have had enough of the empty hole under my breastbone that felt like it opened up my chest for people to peer inside of me. I was done. I needed contact. And I knew where to find it.

I had a copy of Argent's report on Hale's arrest on my laptop. It had the alleyway of Hale's gang. Hopefully, they were still there. They might have scattered when their leader was taken into custody. But I was already starting to form a plan and nothing could stop me.

Grabbing my laptop and turning it on, I took a deep breath. The plan that I had was absolutely crazy. If I was caught, I would be arrested. I would be fired from my job. With the stunt that I pulled today, I knew Jones was not happy. But I didn’t care. I was too damn desperate.

Scrolling through my numerous documents, I finally found the report. And right at the very beginning, is the address of Hale's gang. Coenties Alley. That was within walking distance. I felt a glimmer of hope. This could work. But I wasn’t done yet. I needed money and clothes that would make me blend in.

I slammed my laptop shut and ran to my room. I threw open my closet and peered inside. I mostly had work clothes but I knew I had some regular clothes. Somewhere. After digging for a few minutes, I managed to find a pair of jeans and a dark jacket. Perfect. After shedding my work clothes and pulling on my new ones, I glanced into the mirror hanging on my door. I still looked too obvious. Then I saw it. The dark grey beanie peeking out from under some quilts in my closet. I grabbed it and pulled it on. It was perfect. It hid my hair and my forehead if I pulled it down.

Now, I needed money. There was an ATM on the way to Coenties Alley. I silently thanked my parents for moving to New York when I was little. I could imagine their faces if they saw what I was doing. My father would be so disappointed. His mouth would be pulled down into a frown with his eyebrows knitted together. My mother would have a frown but her eyes would be filled with hope. I think she would be proud of me. Having someone else give me what she never could.

Shaking my head free of those thoughts, I grabbed my wallet and stepped out of my apartment, locking it. Staring at the door, I realized that I might never see my apartment again. The cluttered kitchen. The rusted fire escape under my bedroom window. I hoped the next renters will be a family. Filling the rooms with noise and embedding memories into the walls.

I left my apartment building and quickly walked to the ATM. I don’t know how much gangs charge for their contact. I silently prayed that it wouldn’t be too much. I had money but I didn’t have THAT much money. I was starting to get nervous now that there was people around me. I wondered if they know what I was going to do. Could they read minds? Or was I just slowly losing my sanity? Probably both.

I took three hundred dollars from my account and made my way to Coenties Alley. It was about 7 p.m. so not many people are on the street. The less, the better. I might have a chance of getting away with this. But I had to keep a low profile.

And there it was. Coenties Alley. It’s dark and dirty. It also has a weird smell. Just the place you would think a gang operates its underworld business. Walking up to the alley, I thought I saw something scurry away. I looked but there was nothing there. I was becoming paranoid. Great. I took a deep breath and started my trek into the alley.

“Well, hello!” A voice behind me says. I stop walking and slowly turn around. There is a man who looks like he’s in his twenties. He’s tall, around 6'0". He has dark hair and light green eyes. He’s wearing a black jacket and pants. A small smile lights up his face. He’s handsome, which is something I would never think a gangster could be.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asks, smile getting wider.

“Are you part of Hale’s gang?” I ask. My voice sounds small. I try to look brave but inside, I’m terrified.

His smile disappears.

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, a cold tone replacing his once friendly one.

“I need help.”

“Oh?” A surprised look came over his face. “With what, my dear?”

“I need a hug.” I state, my voice shaking slightly. I reach into my jacket pocket and grab the three hundred dollars. Even my hands are shaking. “Please. I have money. Just…please.”

What happened next was unexpected. The man smiled and took three steps towards me. Then he hugged me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I stiffened, at first, but relaxed into him. I rested my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his waist. He even smelled good. It was everything that Hale described. It was warmth and comfort. I felt so safe in this stranger’s arms. I felt relief. I finally satisfied my lifelong craving. I was in heaven.

We melted into each other, both not wanting to break free from the embrace. The man grabbed my hand that was gripping the money and guided it back into my jacket pocket.

“Keep the money,” He whispered in my ear. “I like you. It wouldn’t be fair to take money from you, my dear.”

“Thank you.” I breathed. As if I couldn’t get any closer, I nuzzled my face into his neck. He hummed under his breath and squeezed me tighter.

For some reason, he started to pull away. Panic made my stomach drop as I finally realized what I was doing. I was touching a complete stranger. Not only a stranger, but a GANGSTER. I started to wiggle, trying to get away from him. But his arms tightened around me, causing me to look up at his face.

His eyes were filled with kindness. His lips were twisted into a small smile. The strangest thing was happening. He was blushing. HE WAS BLUSHING. I was making him blush. I couldn’t believe it.

“I like you,” He whispered. “I really, really like you.”

Before I could respond, he bent his head down and captured my lips in a kiss. He moved his big hands up to my cheeks, carefully cupping them. I instantly melted into it, closing my eyes and looping my arms around his neck.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but I didn’t care. I reveled in the feeling of his soft, warm lips against mine. It was exactly how I thought a kiss would feel like. Warmth, love, and security all rolled up into one little action. I loved it.

We pulled back for air. I looked up into his face and smiled. He smiled back. Just as I was going back for another kiss, bright lights hit our faces. Our heads whipped to see a line of NYPD officers and cars blocking our exit.

“FREEZE,” A voice boomed through a megaphone. It was Jones’ voice. “STEP AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

The man and I didn’t move. We were frozen, stuck together.

“I SAID STEP AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” Jones’ voice boomed. He sounded angry.

The man looked at me and I looked at him.

“Run!” He said, fear lighting up his face.

He grabbed my hand and we ran. I didn’t know where we were going. He was leading me down Coenties Alley and for some reason, I trusted him. It’s odd how this morning, I would have ran away from this man. I would have reported him to the police. I didn't even know his name. But now, I could only feel affection for this man.

“GET THEM!” Jones’ voice boomed through the megaphone. Shots fired out. I looked back to see officers pointing their guns at us. Horror rippled through me. We were in trouble. A lot of trouble.

“Don’t look back! Keep running!” The man yelled. He looked terrified, which made me start to panic. I hoped to God that he knew what he was doing.


	2. A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles Stilinski has managed to escape the New York Police Department with a gang member. What else could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 2 IS FINALLY UP :D I am so sorry this took so long, I got busy and couldn't find time to write. Enjoy!

“Don’t look back! Keep running!” The man yelled. He looked terrified, which made me start to panic. I hoped to God that he knew what he was doing. 

Apparently, he didn’t. We almost ran right into the twenty foot brick wall. That was the end of Coenties Alley. Nowhere else to go. Or so I thought. 

“Over here! C’mon!” The man tugged my hand, leading me down narrow side alley. I guess he really did know what he was doing. Thank God. 

We were dodging piles of garbage and ducking under low-hanging beams. We were taking random turns so fast that I was starting to get dizzy. He never let go of my hand. His grip was firm but not painful. 

After running what seemed like the Boston Marathon, we stopped and listened. I couldn’t hear any officers but sirens were wailing, probably looking for us. With the adrenaline wearing off and jelly-knees setting in, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and leaned against the alley wall. My partner visibly relaxed too.   
My partner. I had noticed his features before, but now I could really see how handsome he was. He had sharp cheekbones and a strong chin. A light dusting of scruff decorated his cheeks. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He was perfect. Absolutely beautiful. 

“Like what you see, my dear?” He smirked.

I felt blood rush up to my cheeks as I moved my gaze to the pavement. I was embarrassed that he caught me staring. Christ. When did I turn into a teenage girl with a crush?

“It was a joke! Jeez, relax!” He said. I could hear the smile in his voice. But I still didn’t look up, trying to save myself from anymore embarrassment. His hand reached under my chin and gently forced my head up. I met his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern.

“We are okay. Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He said, lips twisting up into a little smile. I wanted to correct him. We are not okay. We had just hugged, kissed, and then ran away from possibly the entire NYPD. We had managed to commit three major crimes in one night. If we got caught, we would probably go to jail for the rest of our lives. Or get the death penalty. I had every right to worry. But I didn’t voice these thoughts. The thumb tracing my jaw convinced me otherwise. 

“Okay.” I replied back, voice slightly shaking. I managed to return his smile. His face lit up into a full blown grin. My heart gave a little stutter. He had a beautiful smile with straight, white teeth. A part of me wondered if he was secretly a Greek god. 

“You wanna tell me your name, my dear?” He asked. I forgot that he didn’t know my name and I didn’t know his. Crazy as it seems, he didn’t even seem like a stranger anymore. I trusted him. Without his help, I would be in a random cell in the strictest New York jail, with no hope for a life outside of prison walls. I owe him my name and probably a couple drinks. 

“Stiles Stilinski.” I replied. He raised his eyebrows in slight disbelief. 

“Stiles? Stilinski?” He asked, confusion obvious in his voice.

“Stiles is a nickname. If I told you my real name, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Okay, whatever.” He said. I was glad that he didn’t ask for my real name. It was pretty embarrassing and I hated explaining why I possessed such a weird name.   
Stiles was just easier.

“I told you my name, now tell me yours!” I said. “Or unless you don’t have a name. I can always make up a name for you. It’s fine.”

He rolled his eyes at me, trying to look annoyed but a smile betrayed him. 

“Derek. Hale.” Derek said. 

I knew that name. Hale. 

“Are by any chance related to Peter Hale?” I asked, the words just bursting out. 

Derek sighed. Uh-oh. I hoped I didn’t offend him. I had a tendency of offending people very easily, especially when I had a motor mouth attached to my face. 

“Yes, he’s my uncle.” Derek said slowly. He sounded tired, like the topic of Peter Hale exhausted him. 

“Oh.” Interesting. 

“How do you know him?” He asked, looking at me with quizzical expression. 

Just as I was about to answer, a police siren went off on the street next to us. We both jumped. Fear made my heart skip a beat and my stomach drop. Then I felt Derek’s hand grip mine. I could really get used to this. Derek’s hand was warm and comforting. It was also surprisingly soft. I made a mental note to ask him what kind of lotion he uses. 

“I know somewhere we can hide. C’mon.” Derek said, tugging my hand. I let Derek lead me. I always prided myself on knowing the streets of New York but Derek seemed to know them better. He knew which corner to turn on, which alley lead to what street, and when to jump over a pile of garbage. He must be smart. 

After running through a particularly narrow alley, we burst onto an empty street. It looked like a ghost town. Old buildings and houses with boarded up windows lined the street. No one walked along the sidewalk. It was unusually quiet for New York. 

“C’mon.” Derek said, tugging my hand. He led me to a tall, brick building. The wooden steps leading up to the door were rotting and every single window was boarded up. It was creepy and I didn’t like it. Not that I would have ever admitted it to Derek, but I was scared. I was scared of the building. It gave off the vibe that it didn’t want me inside. To stay out. To get as far away as possible. 

Derek must have sensed my hesitation. He squeezed my hand in reassurance.

“You have to learn to relax, Stiles. All your hair is going to fall out.” Derek said, that beautiful grin lighting up his face. 

I snorted, the sound echoing off the buildings. Derek took that as an “okay” and led me up the rotting stairs. He pushed open an old screen door and we stepped inside the building. As I expected, the building was empty. No furniture. Just bare, dusty floor. Derek led me to a side room off to the right and let go of my hand. He walked over to the far left corner of the room. Just as I was about to ask him what he was doing, he lifted up the floor boards, revealing a metal ladder leading down to who knows where. 

At first glance, the room looked completely normal. Nothing looked out of sorts. I prided myself on paying close attention to details. But apparently, I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. I seriously need to learn humility. 

“Go down, Stiles.” Derek grunted, still holding up the boards. “I’ll be right behind you.”

I quickly got on the ladder and started my descent down. A few moments later, I heard a loud slam and Derek coming down the ladder.

It seemed like years before my feet hit dirt. Derek joined me a few seconds later. We were in a small tunnel lit by a string of Christmas lights strung along the walls. The tunnel wasn’t that long, maybe about twenty feet. A metal door was at the end. 

Derek started walking. Apprehensively, I followed him. 

“When we get to the door, don’t talk. I’ll take care of everything. If they ask you questions, answer them but don’t reveal too much about yourself. We need to stay undercover. Understand?” Derek asked, his face turning grim and expressionless.

I nodded. I didn’t know who “they” are but they sounded dangerous. They seemed to make Derek uneasy, which was impressive considering the man just outran the entire NYPD police force. 

We reached the door and Derek knocked. I could hear footsteps behind the door. It creaked open, revealing a woman who looked like she was in her thirties. She had long, dark brown hair, dark, brown eyes, and olive colored skin. She was seriously beautiful. It made me wonder what a person like her would be doing in a dark, dirty place like this. 

“Derek Hale,” She greeted, leaning against the door. She smirked. “It’s been a long time. What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Deucalion, Kali.” Derek said. Kali’s smirk instantly dropped from her face. 

“Why?” 

“Are you Deucalion? No. So it’s none of your business.” Derek retorted, his tone sharp. I looked up at him in surprise. He looked ready to fight, his shoulders back and his stance steady. He had a determined look on his face. Uneasiness settled in my belly. 

Kali opened her mouth to respond back, but a man’s voice laced with an English accent cut her off.

“Let him in. It’s rude of a host to receive guests and not invite them in. Really, Kali. Where are your manners?” The man asked. He sounded amused.

Kali snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes at Derek, opening the door for us and stepping to the side. Derek just smirked back at her and we walked through the door. It was slammed shut as soon as I was through. 

We walked into a large, well-lit concrete room. I instantly recognized it as an old bunker built during World War 2. These bunkers were built by terrified citizens fearing an air raid from Germany. The air raids never happened and the bunkers were abandoned. 

It wasn’t just Kali in the bunker. A two identical twin guys stood a few feet away from the door, their arms crossed and mouths formed into frowns. A large, muscular man sat at a paper-covered table next to another man wearing sunglasses. He was also holding a walking stick. With a start, I realized that he was blind. 

“Derek, so nice of you to pay us a visit!” The blind man said, an amused smile crossing his face.

“Deucalion.” Derek greeted. 

“What brings you here, my boy?”

“I need help.” 

Twinsies and Kali shifted on their feet. 

“What could you possibly need help with, Derek Hale? You seem to be able to figure things out on your own, or so you told me.” Deucalion said sarcastically.   
Muscle boy next to Deucalion snorted. 

“I suppose you can’t go to your uncle, since the fool got himself caught. Such a shame. And your gang has most likely deserted you. You’re on your own.” Deucalion cocked his head to the side. “ No! You have a partner.”

Three sets of eyes landed on me. I shrunk against Derek. I know Kali saw me when I walked through the door but I was hoping that the others wouldn’t notice me. So much for that plan. 

“Tell me, what is your name?” Deucalion asked me. 

Derek gave me a look that said “whatever you do, DO NOT tell him”. 

“Well? You do have a name, correct?” Deucalion asked. 

“Stiles.” I answered, voice hoarse from lack of use. Derek sighed through his nose. 

“ Stiles. What are you doing with Derek Hale?” Deucalion asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“We got caught doing an exchange. I couldn’t let him get arrested so I decided to bring him with me.” Derek cut in, answering for me. He didn’t look happy revealing that information. 

“Getting caught seems to run in the family.” Muscle boy sneered at Derek. Twinsies and Kali snickered. 

“QUIET, ENNIS!” Deucalion ordered. Everyone in the room jumped and Ennis’ sneer was replaced with a stony look. 

“Deucalion, we just need a place to stay for the night. No money or man power. Just a bed. Please.” Derek said. He looked like he would’ve rather been arrested by the NYPD than beg Deucalion for help. “We’ll leave in the morning.” 

Deucalion seemed to contemplate Derek’s plea. 

“Alright. But remember this, Derek Hale. You owe me.” Deucalion finally answered. Kali, Ennis, and twinsies looked at Deucalion in disbelief.   
“Ethan, Aiden. Bring Derek and Stiles to a room.” Deucalion ordered. The twins exchanged a look of disgust and started walking down a small corridor to the left. 

“Thank you.” Derek told Deucalion. He grabbed my hand and we followed the twins. 

They brought us to a small room that contained a chair and a twin bed. The only thing that lit the room was lamp that had a flickering bulb. They wordlessly slammed the door shut and I could hear their footsteps fading away. 

I sank onto the bed and Derek took a seat in the chair. We stared at each other. 

“How are you?” Derek asked. 

“What?”

“How. Are. You?” Derek asked slowly, as if talking to a child. 

“I’m alive.” I responded. “That’s pretty good, I guess.”

Derek smiled in agreement.

“Who are those people?” I asked. Derek’s smile faded.

“Those people are a very powerful gang and Deucalion is their leader. We call them the “alpha pack”. They’re dangerous and will do anything to stay on top. They will take out a threat without thinking. It’s better not to challenge them.” Derek explained. 

“Oh. Great. Good to know that when we’re sleeping in their hide out. I feel really safe.” I sarcastically replied.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let them hurt you. I promise.” Derek said. 

I blushed and looked at the floor. As I was about to say thank you, my stomach loudly growled. 

“Are you hungry?” Derek asked.

“Yeah.” I hadn’t eaten since lunch at work. That seemed like ages ago. 

“I’ll try to go find us some food. I’ll be right back.” Derek said, standing up and walking out of the room. He shut the door behind him. 

I put my head in my hands. What a crazy mess I was in. I’m running from the NYPD with Peter Hale’s nephew, who I barely know. And we were sleeping in the hide out of a power-hungry gang that wasn’t afraid to kill us in an instant. This is not how I expected this night to turn out. I just wanted a god damn hug. 

I could feel a panic attack coming on. My lungs constricted and I started trembling. I felt tears start to prick my eyes. All I could think about was the situation I was in and the consequences of getting caught. I imagined seeing my father’s disappointed face and my mother’s grief filled eyes as a judge announced my sentence. I imagined living a miserable life in a prison, never seeing the light of day again. Those cruel thoughts ran on a loop in my head, never stopping. 

A million and four years later, I heard Derek walk into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Okay, I have- Stiles?” Derek started saying, but stopped. “Stiles? Stiles! What’s wrong?” 

I answered him with a pathetic sounding choked sob. 

“You’re okay, Stiles.” Derek comforted, plopping down next to me on the bed. “You’re safe with me, you have nothing to worry about, everything is going to be okay.”

His words were useless. I couldn’t stop the loop in my head. I couldn’t stop the panic. After a few moments, Derek sighed and pulled me into an awkward side hug. He started to rock me.

I started. I had never been rocked in my life. It was strangely comforting for such an odd motion. I liked it. I would see mothers rocking fussy babies to soothe them and I would always feel a pang of jealousy. I wanted to know what it felt like. And now, sitting in Derek’s arms and being rocked, I finally understood.

We sat in silence, as Derek continued to rock me back and forth. It was oddly comforting. Mind finally free from panic, I began thinking about how I wouldn’t have survived without Derek. It was his wits that saved me from the police. It was his connections that got me to this hiding spot. I couldn’t have done it without him. 

Slowly, I started to calm down. I pulled my hands away from my eyes and looked up at Derek. He looked down at me. 

“Better?” He asked, concern lighting up his eyes.

“Yeah,” I replied, voice slightly shaking. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“It’s fine,” He said. “I was expecting you to freak out.”

“Really?” I asked. 

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.

“It’s pretty common for people who pay for contact,” He explained. “They have a tough time handling the fact that they just broke the law.”  
“Oh.” I said. That would explain why the people the NYPD arrested were basket cases.

“Anyways, I have food.” Derek said, producing a couple sandwiches and bottles of water. “This is all Kali would give to me. Apparently, she controls the food here.”

“This is fine. More than fine. It’s awesome.” I replied, grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of water. I took a bite out of the sandwich. Ham. 

“Good to know you’re not picky.” Derek said, taking a bite out of his own sandwich. 

I rolled my eyes, causing him to laugh. Dear God, his laugh. It was deep, rolling, and beautiful. His eyes scrunched up and he threw his head back. I loved it. Oh no. I’m turning into a teenage fan girl. 

We finished our small meal quickly. Just as I was going to thank Derek for the food, a large-and long- yawn overtook me. Derek chuckled. 

“We better get some rest. Deucalion expects us to get out of here at the crack of dawn’s ass tomorrow.” He joked.

I giggled at the bad joke. GIGGLED?! SERIOUSLY?!

“I s’ppose.” I agreed, another yawn overtaking me. Derek yawned back in response. I watched as his mouth formed a large “o” and he stretched his arms up over his head. He looked exhausted. My heart gave a little pang. Lord knows he’s been carting me all over the fricken’ city. 

I kicked off my shoes and wiggled out of my jacket. I then flopped down onto the bed, my back to Derek. 

“Uh, Stiles?” He asked. I could hear a smile in his voice. 

“What?” 

“Are you gonna take of your hat?” I could hear his low chuckles. 

Cheeks heating up in embarrassment, I ripped off my hat and whipped it at him. Derek’s deep laughter filled up the room. I grinned at the wall. 

“You’re an idiot, Stiles.” Derek bantered. I could still hear that smile. 

“Mmmphhhhh.” I grumbled, too tired to respond.

Derek chuckled. I could hear him taking off his shoes and his jacket. He turned off the lamp and got onto the bed, putting my back against his chest and wrapping his arms around my waist. 

I stiffened, unaccustomed to the sudden contact. 

“It’s okay, Stiles.” Derek mumbled into my shoulder. “I got you.” 

I relaxed into him. He was warm and surprisingly cuddly, considering that the man felt like a wall of muscle. A nagging thought suddenly sprung into my mind. 

“Derek?” I whispered. 

“Hm?” 

“What’re we going to do tomorrow? Where can we go?” I asked, uneasiness gripping my heart. 

“I have a plan,” He responded. “A plan involving Canada.”

I knew exactly what he was going to do. We were going to escape. 

When the Fight against Human Diseases was making their mark on the United States, they tried to push their bill onto the rest of the world. Luckily, no other country followed their lead. So, Canada is practically a safe haven for human contact. 

I smiled, all the tension leaving my body. For the first time in my life, I fell asleep happy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I'm so sorry!!!!!! i know i haven't updated this in like 500 years so thank you so much to those of you who are still reading this! i promise to update continually from now on! school is almost over and summer is coming! thank you bless you  
> again, feedback is always welcome!

I was running through a dark alley, stumbling over garbage. I couldn't catch my breath. My legs were burning from exhaustion. My instincts screamed at me to run, run, and never stop running. It seems like I didn't have a choice. So I ran. I looked behind me to see the entire NYPD police force chasing me. Heading the chase was my own father. He looked furious, no doubt over the fact that his own son has broken the no contact law and was now residing with gangsters. I could practically feel the disappointment radiating from him.

Suddenly, the alley ended and I nearly run face first into the brick wall. I looked around, hoping to spot an escape. But no such luck. The brick wall was too tall to climb and no side alleys were connected to this alley. I was trapped. I turned to see my father marching towards me, his gun in his hand. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his mouth was pulled down into a disappointed frown.

"To think," he said, pushing a full clip of ammo into his gun. "That my own son, who I raised to follow the laws of our country and taught him everything I know, stabs me in the back and becomes a criminal. What a disappointment."

My father is in front of me now, with his gun pointed at my chest. My hearts jumps into my throat.

"But you were always a disappointment." he sneers, poking his gun into my chest. "Never living up to your mother and I's expectations. You were a waste of time and energy. You aren't my son."

"Stiles!"

I'm jolted awake, sitting up so fast I nearly collide heads with Derek. I gasp for breath, still reeling from the nightmare.

"Jesus!" Derek jumps back. "You okay?"

I barely hear him, my ears ringing with my father's words. Disappointment. Waste of time and energy. Not his son. I feel cold sweat running down the side of my face.

"Stiles, look at me!" Derek grabs my face with his hands, forcing my eyes to meet his. "You're okay! You're with me!"

I blink at him, slowly comprehending his words. I let out a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." I reassure him.

"Good." He presses a kiss to my forehead. I stiffen at the unfamiliar gesture. "I hate to rush you but we gotta go."

"What?"

"Get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes." He hands me my jacket and hat and exits the room, closing the door behind him.

I climb out of the bed, pulling on my hat and zipping up my jacket. I look around the dirty room that hid me away from the vengeance of the NYPD. This room gave Derek and I protection. It kept us safe, even though it was in the lair of the most dangerous gang in New York. But beggars can't be choosers. I offer my silent gratitude to the room.

"You ready?" Derek asks, standing in the doorway with a small breakfast of bagels and granola bars in his hands. His faced is grim.

"Yep."

"Good."

We leave the alpha gang's lair with no resistance. Non of the members are present for our departure. We hurriedly eat our meager breakfast as we walk through the same dark tunnel, climb up the ladder, and exit from the run-down building. Derek leads me to a gray Chevy Cruze. I climb into the passenger seat and Derek gets behind the wheel.

"Where'd you get the car?" I ask as Derek starts up the vehicle.

"I have my sources." Derek smirks, pulling away from the curb.

"That didn't answer my question."

"It wasn't supposed to."

I gave up questioning Derek and we rode in comfortable silence. I looked out the window, watching my city rush past me in a blur. In some twisted way, I was kind of sad about leaving New York. I grew up here. I knew the streets. I knew all the little nooks and crannies that made New York unique. I was going to miss the bustle of the city and the endless traffic. Hell, I was even going to miss the annoying streetlamp that shone into my bedroom at night.

"What're you thinking about?" Derek asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Um..." I'm suddenly embarrassed. What would Derek do if I told him that I was going to miss New York? Would he laugh at me? Ridicule me for my weird anxieties? I again became painfully aware of how little I knew Derek Hale.

"Stiles." Derek interrupts my inner turmoil. "I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I don't know if you've noticed, but were kinda partners in crime."

I snort at the bad pun.

"I guess I'm sad about leaving New York." I admit, looking down at my hands. "It's the only place I've ever known."

"Hey, it's okay to be sad." Derek replies. "It's hard to accept change, especially if we're leaving behind familiarity."

"Thanks, Aristotle."

Derek laughs that beautiful laugh of his. My insides flutter. When did I become a teenage girl with her first crush?

"So," I start, trying to get a conversation going. "Are you upset about leaving New York? Are you leaving family behind?"

Derek doesn't answer. I look over to see him stonily staring at the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are turning white.

"No. I'm leaving no one behind." He finally answers. He looks upset.

"Oh." was my response. We both fall silent. Way to kill the mood, Stiles.

"I'm not leaving anyone behind," I said, pushing my parents faces into the back of my mind. The sooner I forget about them, the better. "I'm alone."

"You're not alone. You're with me."

I smile to myself, happiness filling up my chest. Derek was right. For the first time in my adult life, I wasn't alone. Derek was by my side. We were both in the same situation, running from the NYPD to find sanctuary in Canada. We were both leaving no one behind in New York. All I had was Derek and all Derek had was me.

"I never got to thank you for saving my life." I blurt out. Derek glances at me in surprise. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably be in the custody of the NYPD. Or dead."

"You don't have to thank me-" Derek tries to protest but I cut him off.

"No, really. Thank you." I reach for his hand, interlace our fingers, and give a firm squeeze. It's the first time that I've initiated contact with Derek. He looks at our connected hands and grins at me.

"Now accept my damn gratitude before I take it back." I order, giving Derek's hand another squeeze. His hand is bigger than mine. It's warm and his palm is slightly rough. It's nice.

"You're welcome! Jesus!" he retorts back, throwing his head back and laughing.

The car falls silent. I continue to hold Derek's hand, reassured by the presence of another person. Strangely, I felt calm. I wasn't so afraid of what was going to happen next. I had Derek with me. I won't be alone.

I give Derek's hand another squeeze to reassure him that I was here next to him. He squeezes back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH SCHOOL IS FINALLY OVER!!! now i can fully dedicate myself to this fic! i feel like a need to do some major make up because of the accidental eight month haitus... so again. thank you all so much for sticking with this fic and taking time to even read it. ily bless you <3

I woke with a start when my head cracked against the car window. Derek snorted.

"The road's a bit bumpy." he supplied.

"Shut up."

Derek chuckled while I glared at the window, debating if I should retaliate or not.

"We're almost there." Derek suddenly said.

"What?"

"We're almost to the Canadian border." Derek repeated. "About 10 minutes away, actually."

"Oh."

The car fell silent and I struggled to fight down the sudden wave of anxiety that gripped my stomach. I don't know what I was so worried about. I had been in more serious situations. Like when Derek and I were running from the entire NYPD. Or when we spent the night in the den of one of New York's most powerful gangs. But I was suddenly nervous to enter Canada, the country where the no contact law applied. Derek and I's sanctuary. Man up, Stiles.

But when we drove up to a large, barb-wired fence surrounded by men with machine guns, that thought flew out of my mind.

Derek pulled the car up to the gate and put it in park.

"Don't say anything." He said, pulling out his wallet and digging for something. "Let me do all the talking. And if they ask you what we're doing, tell them that we're visiting family in Quebec."

I nodded, a lump in my throat preventing me from speaking.

A man walked up to the driver's side and rapped on the window. Derek rolled it down.

"Identification." The man ordered. Derek handed him two licenses, no doubt fake.

The man checked them over, glancing up to match our faces with the little photos on the cards.

"What's your business in Canada?"

"We're going to visit family up in Quebec." Derek said effortlessly, even giving the man a bright smile. If I wasn't so damn nervous, I would've admired that smile.

"You're visiting family but you didn't pack?" The man peered into the backseat, noticing our lack of luggage. My heart jumped into my throat.

"It was a last minute decision to come." Derek replied, quickly saving the situation. "We decided to come this morning. Our family has clothes for us, anyways."

Thank God for Derek because if it was just me, I would have been a stuttering mess.

The man was silent for a few moments, thinking over our excuse.

"Alright." He finally said, handing back the licenses to Derek. "You're good to go."

He waved at someone and the gate opened, revealing our freedom.

"Have a nice trip."

Derek nodded in thanks, rolled up the window, and put the car in drive. We sped away from the border, the gate a distant shape in the rear view mirror. We both let out a breath. I slumped down in my seat, a incredulous laugh bubbling past my lips.

"We did it!" I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "Derek, we actually did it!"

"I know! I know!" Derek laughed that gorgeous laugh. My heartbeat sped up, but I blamed that on the adrenaline that was currently coursing through my body.

"We're finally free!" I yelled, doing a victory dance in my seat. Derek laughed even harder.

"God, you're weird!" he said, after his laughter had died down.

"Hey! Being weird gives me character!" I retorted.

"I like it."

Surprised, I glanced at Derek to see if he was kidding or not. He was dead serious, his eyes meeting mine and a small smile playing on my lips. I couldn't blame my racing heartbeat on adrenaline anymore.

"Thanks?" I weakly thanked him, embarrassment eating me alive. Of course, my weirdness was the only thing that made me attractive.

"This is your's, by the way." Derek tossed my license to me.

"Mine? But I thought you made fake licenses!"

"Nope. I took you're old one and made some changes." 

He was right. I noticed that he changed my name, my address, and even my height and weight. But the same dorky picture was there.

"Sam Smith? Really?" I asked.

"I didn't know what else to change it to! Creativity is not my strongest suit."

"I've noticed." I said. "And by the way, I'm 150 pounds, not 120. I'm not that skinny."

"Seriously?" Derek asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"You're an ass."

Derek laughed harder than I had ever seen him laugh.

We drove for what seemed like hours, only taking a couple breaks to go to the bathroom, get food, and refuel the car. Derek refused to let me pay for anything and when I asked him where he got his money, he also refused to tell me. I soon gave up.

"Where are we even going?" I asked, curiosity eating me up.

"You'll find out" was his only response that left me even more curious.

We continued driving until we got to a small town named La Tuque. Derek made some turns and soon we were travelling down a quiet dirt road surrounded by tall pine trees. As a native New Yorker, I wasn't used to seeing so much nature at once. It was beautiful. We turned left and followed a driveway that led to a small cabin, nestled in the pine trees. It was hidden from the road and could be easily missed by people passing by.

Derek pulled the car in front of the cabin and shut it off.

"Here we are." Derek announced, voice slightly tight.

"This is yours?" I asked, peering up at the cabin.

"It's my family's." he explained. "We bought this cabin just in case things got too bad in New York and we needed an escape. In happier times, we used to spend our summers up here."

He sounded sad. I looked back to find Derek wistfully staring at the cabin, as if he was reliving happy memories. I reached forward and grabbed Derek's hand, squeezing gently. He met my gaze and squeezed back, offering a small smile.

"I like it." I said, rubbing small circles into his hand with my thumb. "It looks like home."

Derek squeezed my hand in response.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok I know I haven't been updating this as often as I promised and I'm so sorry. I've been working a lot lately and I just recently attended on orientation for the university I'll be attending this fall and let's just say....it was a little disappointing. I was told that the chances of me getting my dream job is slim and I may have to change my major. It just sucks because I want a job that I love but also pays me enough so I can support myself. and I don't know what that job is. anyways, I'll stop whining and let you read! ENJOYYYYYYY!

Derek unlocked the door and ushered me inside the cabin. I stepped into a small kitchen. I looked to my right to find a large table and a living room, along with a hallway that must have lead to something. The area would've looked nice if it wasn't covered in a thick layer of dust. I had a feeling that this cabin hadn't been used in a very long time. It made me uneasy.

"Let me take your jacket." Derek said. I complied and he hung it up on a coat rack behind us, along with his own jacket.

"I don't think you'll need this." He said, tugging off my hat and hanging it up.

We both turned back to the kitchen/living room area.

"This is it." Derek said quietly.

He was sad, which was making me sad. Derek was different now from when I first met him. In that alleyway, he was cool and confident. But now, he was quiet and subdued, upset by something. I wanted to comfort him but I didn't know how.

"It's nice." I told him. "Quaint."

He snorted.

"Who uses the word 'quaint'?"

"I do."

He snorts again.

"C'mon, I'll give you a tour."

Turns out, this cabin was bigger on the inside than I thought it was. I learned that on the main floor, along with the kitchen and the living room, there was three bedrooms and a bathroom, along with a patio overlooking the backyard. Upstairs, there were two more bedrooms and two bathrooms, with a study that was filled with books. The basement was basically a large living room (along with a small laundry room), complete with four pull-out couches, a large big-screen T.V., and countless movies all stacked neatly next to a DVD player. This cabin was obviously intended to accommodate a large family. But oddly enough, there were no pictures. For a large "family" cabin, you think there would be countless pictures capturing precious moments of joy. But there wasn't a single one. And to top it off, every room was covered in dust, further proving that this place hadn't seen a person in a very long time.

Derek ended the tour back in the kitchen.

"My room is the one down the hall and to the left." Derek pointed down the hall. "Your room is right across the hall. There's some clothes in that closet that I think will fit you. You should change. You're really nasty."

I rolled my eyes but wordlessly walked to my room. I went straight to the closet and found it full of clothes that looked new. I ripped off my grimy New York clothes and picked out a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt. There was also a dresser in my room, which contained boxers and socks that were in my size. I almost cried putting them on, enjoying in the feeling of clean underwear and socks.

Derek was right. The clothes fit me. Perfectly. Weird.

After dumping my old clothes on the floor, I put my shoes back on, not wanting to get my clean socks dirty. I made my way back to the kitchen where Derek was madly wiping down the counters, trying to remove the dust. The floor still needed to be swept.

"Is there a broom around here?" I asked. "I could sweep."

Derek looked up from the counter he was wiping and pointed to a tall cabinet.

"I think there's one in there."

Thankfully, the cabinet did have a broom and even a dust pan. I got to work sweeping the kitchen and under the table. I made my way down the hall and swept both Derek's room and mine. I went over the kitchen and the rooms again, just to be safe.

By the time I was done sweeping, Derek was done wiping. We were both grimy, my clean clothes covered in dust. We both needed showers. Badly.

"Thanks for sweeping," Derek said, attempting to wipe the dirt from his shirt. "I really appreciate it."

"It's not a big deal," I placed the broom and the dust pan back in their rightful place. "This is my home too."

Derek's head snapped up, his wide eyes meeting mine. I smiled. He smiled back. My stomach growled.

"You're hungry."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Derek rolled his eyes and yanked open the fridge door. I peeked over his shoulder to find the fridge completely empty. Derek yanked open the freezer door to reveal a box of frozen waffles and a couple bags of frozen vegetables. Derek looked back at me.

"This okay?"

"Yes! This is more than okay, it's fantastic! Just feed me."

"Whatever you say, princess."

Derek handed me the box of frozen waffles and walked over to the toaster. It was absolutely filthy. I wiped it down the best I could and plugged it into the nearest socket. I placed four waffles into the toaster, two for each of us. I figured that if we wanted more, we could make more. There were plenty. The box had never been opened.

Derek was microwaving the vegetables and had set out two plates for us. He currently had his head stuck into the fridge.

"There's nothing to drink in here so is water fine?"

"Yeah."

Derek shut the fridge door and walked over to the sink, turning the faucet on. At first, nothing came out. Then, water slowly starting dripping out, followed by a burst of brown water pouring out of the faucet. The smell of stagnant water filled the room. Derek and I both pulled a face.

"The well hasn't been used in a while," Derek said. "I guess no showers tonight."

"Damn it."

The waffles popped out of the toaster just as the microwave beeped, signalling the end of the cooking period.

"I'm just going to let that run," Derek said, taking the veggies and the waffles and plating them. "Hopefully tomorrow we'll have clean water."

He grabbed a couple forks and made his way to the table.

"C'mon, let's eat."

We settled ourselves at the table and dug into the food. Something was off about the waffles. I wasn't sure after a couple bites but halfway through the waffle, it was clear. Something wasn't right.

"Do these waffles taste weird to you?" I asked Derek.

"I'm glad you noticed too."

I stood up and grabbed the waffle box sitting on the counter. I quickly found the expiration date and my suspicions were confirmed. These waffles were two fricken' years old.

"These are two years old." I waved the box at Derek.

"Whoops." was his response.

"Are we going to die from food poisoning?"

"I don't think so. Frozen food lasts for a while."

"But for two years?"

"Stiles, there is literally nothing else to eat in this house and I don't want you to go to bed hungry. Just eat the waffles for now and we'll go grocery shopping tomorrow, I promise."

"I wonder how old the vegetables are."

"Probably older than the waffles."

"Great."

After we forced down the expired dinner, I helped Derek change the sheets on our beds. We piled the dusty blankets out in the hallway, the intention to wash them tomorrow when the water was clean.

It was well past nine. I was exhausted and I could tell Derek was too. We had been running for the past two days, sleeping and eating very little. A full night's sleep sounded amazing.

I bid Derek a good night and we both retired to our rooms. I changed out of my dusty clothes into a soft pair of pajama pants and a big t-shirt. I climbed under the sheets and turned the bedside lamp off. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come.

But oddly, I couldn't fall asleep. The bed was beyond comfortable. Hell, even the pillow was comfortable! No matter how many times I tossed and turned, I just couldn't get comfortable. Something felt off. With a start, I realized that Derek wasn't next to me. For the past two days, Derek has been constantly by my side, always in my sights. I had gotten so used to his presence that it felt off when he wasn't near me. When did I become such a clingy person?

I debated whether or not I should go to Derek's room. He was probably already asleep. These past two days had to be exhausting for him as well. But now I couldn't fall asleep. Staying up all night staring at the ceiling was not something I wanted to do.

"Screw it." I thought, getting up from the bed and grabbing my pillow. I silently made my way to Derek's room.

His door was closed. I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. I could make out Derek's outline in the moonlight.

"Derek?" I whispered into the room. "Derek?"

"Wha?"

"I, um. I can't sleep...and...I...uh" I stuttered eloquently.

"Just get in here."

I crossed the room in three steps and dove under the covers. I situated myself so I was facing Derek's back, snuggling (yes, I admit, snuggling) against him.

"Good night, Stiles."

"Good night."


End file.
